


Twenty-one Kilometres Under the Earth

by blacktofade



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade/pseuds/blacktofade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU version of 05x09. This is why the Doctor should never tamper with time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty-one Kilometres Under the Earth

Restac pointed her weapon, aiming straight for the Doctor, then pulled the trigger.

Time slowed to a crawl for Rory, and it seemed as though he had a lifetime to throw himself in front of the Doctor and save him. He hadn’t been planning on doing it or anything, it wasn’t as though he woke up that morning thinking “Oh, yes, today would be an excellent day to become a martyr”, in fact it was quite the opposite; he woke up thinking _This is the day, I, Rory Williams, live_. He’d spent his morning flipping through a large text he’d found in the TARDIS’ library about the history of the universe and all its planets, while drinking tea and eating jammy toast, trying to decide where he should suggest for them to go next. But then the Doctor had strolled into the kitchen, a mug in one hand, a copy of _Great Expectations_ in the other, with a pair of glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose, and Rory had quite forgotten what he’d been reading.

“These expectations aren’t so great, are they?” the Doctor had asked him, smiling lopsidedly, but Rory had had a mouthful of crust and, anyway, he’d never actually read the book in school – it was one of those ask-your-mates-just-before-the-exam texts, besides, Rory had been concentrating more on chemistry at the time.

Where was he again? Oh, yes, Restac.

“Doctor!”

Rory launched himself into the Doctor, throwing him off balance and sending him sideways out of the firing line. He had the vague thought that the Doctor was horribly bony, as an elbow jabbed him painfully in the ribs, but then he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun – well, from across the room, but it was the same thing, just as scary – and his mind went blank. No last thoughts, no “I am bored of it all” for his last words, like the great Winston Churchill, just nothing.

The gun made a whirring noise -- Rory thought, _oh dear, this is it_ – but then it clicked loudly twice and broke apart in a flurry of sparks. Restac cursed and fell backwards at the small explosion, hitting her head against the floor and knocking herself clean out. Nurse or not, Rory refused to check on her. He stumbled further and found himself pressed back against the Doctor, accidentally pinning the other man up against the wall. The Doctor let out a small _oof_ at the same time Rory said “Ow!” as their heads bumped together painfully.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to move away, but the Doctor grabbed his upper arms with surprising strength and smiled wildly, his eyes shining excitedly.

“Sorry?” he said, his mouth wide and voice incredulous. “Sorry! That’s the last thing you should be saying! Oh, Rory, you beautiful thing!”

Rory leaned away laughing nervously as the Doctor loomed over him, but then the Doctor moved his hands to steady Rory’s face and lips descended upon his forehead. They left a cool circle of moisture against his brow, but Rory thought it might be rude if he were to rub it off, so he left it, allowing it to itch and tingle to its own contentment.

“I’ll promote you to co-co-pilot, behind myself and Amy; what do you think of that?”

“That’s not funny,” he said and ignored Amy’s interjection that, _actually, yes, it is_.

The Doctor smiled, eyes regarding him carefully, “Yes, you’re right; not at all funny.” However, even as he said it, his lips twitched. The Doctor clapped him on the back, shouted, “Time to go!” and quickly made his way into the TARDIS.

Amy laughed as she took a hold of Rory’s hand and tugged him, following after the Doctor.

*

Rory found himself running his fingers over flashing lights and levers and every sort of button imaginable. They had dropped Elliot and his family at the edge of the cemetery and were now hovering within the in-between as they took a day to themselves – Amy had complained that she rather needed a rest after the trip twenty-one kilometres under the ground and back.

“Careful,” a voice said behind him, “that’s the eject button.”

Rory tugged his hand away and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans.

“Sorry,” he said out of habit.

“Do you ever not apologise?” the Doctor asked light-heartedly.

“Sor—” Rory caught himself before he could finish the word, but as he turned to look at the Doctor, he found laughter in his eyes.

“Answers my question,” the Doctor replied as he folded his arms and leaned back against the railings around the TARDIS’ console.

“Where’s Amy, then? Sleeping?”

The Doctor paused noticeably before answering. “She’s doing lengths in the pool.”

“Oh. You found it then?”

“Yes, but the real question is why did you say sleeping?” The Doctor tipped his head back slightly and narrowed his eyes.

“Why not?”

“Well, from that I’d infer that she obviously didn’t sleep with you when you slept, as if she had, you would have known that she wasn’t still sleeping, and from that I have to guess that you two – who are soon to be married, mind – do not share a bed. Now why would that be?”

Rory stuttered and moved his gaze to the floor as his cheeks began to heat. “It makes me uncomfortable knowing you’re lurking around somewhere.”

“I knock,” the Doctor said sounding vaguely offended before he corrected himself, “most times; sometimes; that one time.”

“Exactly.”

“You know if you two want time alone, you need only ask and I’ll make myself scarce. How can I know when to leave if you don’t tell me, hmm?”

Rory definitely didn’t want to have this conversation with the Doctor. It had been bad enough when he’d been an awkward thirteen year old and his dad had sat him down and given him The Talk. Not that the Doctor was anything like his dad, or that Rory was once again thirteen, just – oh god, he was making it worse for himself.

“I, er, yes, thanks.”

The Doctor grinned, his brows lifting and forehead uncreasing. “Excellent! Glad we had this talk.”

Rory smiled uncomfortably in return.

“However, that is not why I’m here; I’m here because I never actually thanked you for trying to save me earlier. Very brave, very heroic, most noble of you.”

“I thought you thanked me by promoting me to ‘co-co-pilot’” he said using air quotes to show his sarcasm.

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I? Wasn’t very nice of me, but I must say that it’s quite something to have two hearts pumping blood through your veins. Really gives you a rush when they’re thumping about madly; makes you say silly things, hurtful things.”

“Is that an apology?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Can’t a simple ‘I’m sorry’ suffice?”

“Well, that’s your department, isn’t it?”

“You really need to work on your apologies,” Rory said folding his arms, mirroring the Doctor’s stance by leaning back on the console. He accidentally sat on a button and a loud _ding_ resounded around the room. “Oh, god, what did I do?” he asked as he quickly stood upright and turned to assess the damage.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t do anything.”

“If it doesn’t do anything, then why does it exist?” Rory replied looking over his shoulder.

The Doctor smiled. “Nothing has to have a reason to be. Some things just are. They’re what make life much, much better.”

For one confusing moment, Rory almost believed the Doctor was talking about far more than one tiny little button. There was a faint pause while Rory tried to gather his thoughts back up.

The Doctor broke out in a large grin as he watched Rory. “Now, how about a hug and we’ll call it even?”

Before Rory could even get a word edgewise, the Doctor straightened, strode towards him, and enveloped him in his arms. Unbalanced, Rory stepped backwards, knocking into the console and causing the Doctor to press fully against the length of his body. Rory let out a small yelp as a sharp lever dug painfully into the small of his back, but a hand quickly came between the metal and his spine, soothing the skin beneath his shirt with a careful rub.

After a moment, Rory awkwardly patted the Doctor’s back and waited for him to move away, except he didn’t.

“Doctor?” he questioned, voice muffled by the collar of the Doctor’s jacket.

The Doctor shushed him and pulled back far enough that he and Rory were face to face, their noses almost brushing.

“This is a peaceful moment, enjoy it, Rory.”

Rory leant in to hug the Doctor properly, however, as luck would have it, at that exact moment, the Doctor turned his head and Rory managed to bang their foreheads together painfully.

“Ow! Sorry!”

“You’re doing it again,” the Doctor said and Rory only just managed to squeak out “What?”

“You’re apologising again.”

“Sorry.”

The Doctor laughed, a loud, sudden burst of noise that took Rory by surprise. “Rory, Rory, Rory,” he said, his lips turning upwards, “What would we do without you?”

Rory didn’t have an answer for that question, as most of his thoughts involved the Doctor and Amy tangled together under sheets, doing things he’d rather not think about. He was sure they’d get on just fine without him, because that was what happened; the handsome hero always got the girl. There was never any third-wheel tagging along behind, that was not how love stories went.

“I—I should go check on Amy, make sure she hasn’t drowned,” he stammered quietly as he stepped backwards, accidentally knocking his elbow painfully in a metal panel covering wires and god knows what else.

The Doctor watched him with a steady gaze, his face unreadable and rather unnerving as Rory quickly moved away towards the stairs.

“Rory,” the Doctor said, making Rory’s step falter, though he didn’t turn around to face him. “I was just kidding. There’s no eject button in this thing.”

Rory took the steps two at a time, escaping without looking back.

*

“Knock knock,” said the Doctor as he leaned around the doorframe. Rory looked up and found the Doctor grinning happily at him. He turned and glanced over his shoulder just to make sure Amy wasn’t standing behind him. Finding no one there, he looked back at the Doctor and smiled timidly in return.

“Hi?”

“Hello,” said the Doctor, his eyes crinkling in the corners, “Amy wanted me to come and ask you where you wanted to go next. She said it was your choice this time.”

“Oh, why didn’t she come ask me herself?”

“She’s busy doing,” he paused and glanced about the room, “stuff.”

Rory followed the Doctor’s gaze as it focussed on the screen of the television Rory had been watching only seconds before.

“What’s this then?” the Doctor asked stepping inside the room and moving to sit next to Rory on the settee.

“It’s nothing, just a load of rubbish, really.” He moved to change the channel, but the Doctor gently took a hold of his hand and stole the remote from him.

“No, this is fine,” he said with a smile before turning his attention to the TV. He splayed his legs and arms, leaning back into the cushions and taking up as much room as humanly possible. “Comfy here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice. You two have run me off my feet; it feels good to finally have a sit down.”

“No stamina,” the Doctor joked with a quick wink.

Rory let out a huff of incredulous laughter. “What do you expect me to be, a robot?”

“Not in the least, though that would be rather cool, wouldn’t it?”

Rory lowered the pitch of his voice and said, “Sarah Connor?”

The Doctor smiled at him, but his face clearly showed that he didn’t understand the reference.

“ _The Terminator_? Classic film? Robots from the future?”

“Robots from the future? We could probably find some of those if you wanted.”

Rory shook his head, “No thanks; you wouldn’t want to either if you saw the movie.”

The Doctor looked vaguely intrigued as he shifted, kneeling and shifted closer until his knees nudged against the side of Rory’s thigh. Rory thought about scooting backwards, away, but then the Doctor firmly grasped his face between his hands and pushed their foreheads towards each other. Their heads knocked together gently and the Doctor let go and moved quickly away, sprawling back down into his seat.

“Yes, I can see why you wouldn’t want to meet one of those,” he said, his brows furrowing.

Rory looked at him, his eyes slowly widening. “You just read my mind?”

“We shared thoughts for a moment; nothing special.”

“You’re remarkable and ridiculous at the same time, Doctor. How can you even think about saying that being psychic is ‘nothing special’?”

The Doctor tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling as though he saw something Rory didn’t.

“When you have the whole of the time and space in your mind, things change. Everything’s relative, Rory.”

“Can you do that thing again and show me what the universe is really like? How you see it?”

The Doctor laughed and leant across to tap Rory gently on the forehead.

“If I did that, your head would go _pop_ and a headless Rory would be no use at all.”

“About as useful as a Rory _with_ a head, I suspect.”

The smile slowly fell of the Doctor’s face and his hand slipped down to land on Rory’s shoulder, which it squeezed gently.

“You _are_ needed around here, Rory.”

“To remind Amy who she’s with?”

“To keep me company. Amy is,” he paused, as though searching for the right word, “lovely, but it is nice to have a man around. We can – what is it you lot do? – play football then drink beer.”

Rory laughed. “That’s not really us, is it? Look at you; you probably couldn’t even hold a pint, and, me? I’ve got weak ankles – terrible for playing sports. We’re the least stereotypical blokes anyone’ll ever meet.”

“Fair point, but you can still keep me company.”

Rory offered him a small smile and the Doctor patted his shoulder.

“Right, now where would you – ”

Before the Doctor could finish his sentence, Amy called his name from somewhere within the TARDIS’ many rooms and the Doctor quickly stood and apologised. He moved towards the doorway then stopped and looked at Rory over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back,” the Doctor said, deepening his voice briefly. He laughed at his own joke before he turned away and left the room.

Rory couldn’t help but smile and shake his head.

*

“Oh, that’s not good.”

Rory watched as the Doctor stared at the blood quickly seeping down the centre of his chest through his torn shirt and quickly moved into action, his nursing instincts kicking in at the sight of trauma. He looped one of the Doctor’s arms around his shoulders and took part of his weight as he moved the Doctor to the nearest seat, where he gently lowered him. He quickly undid the Doctor’s bowtie, letting it slide from around his collar to the floor, then unbuttoned the Doctor’s shirt and pushed it open as he assessed the damage. The cut was fairly superficial, only gaining depth as it reached just above the Doctor’s bellybutton.

“First aid kit?” Rory asked and the Doctor, looking rather pale, tilted his head towards the TARDIS console. Rory quickly located a small box hidden in a niche between aluminium coils and a mass of red wires and opened it to find gauze and bandages overflowing inside.

“You alright, Doc?” With a handful of materials, Rory turned back towards the Doctor to find him with his face screwed up. “Are you in pain?”

“Yes, but mostly because you called me ‘Doc’. Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” Rory replied as he gently pressed a clump of gauze against the worst of the Doctor’s cut. He watched the muscles of the Doctor’s stomach jump and twitch under his touch, as he stemmed the bleeding in silence. Once the worst was cleared up, Rory carefully scrubbed away the dried blood from the Doctor’s pale skin then covered up the wound with a dressing. He could feel the Doctor watching his every move, putting him under pressure, though he was proud of the way he stopped his fingers from trembling. He wound bandage around the Doctor’s body, pushing the Doctor’s undone jacket and shirt out of the way with his knuckles. Every time he passed the roll of bandage from one hand to the other behind the Doctor’s back, he found himself with his chin nearly resting on the Doctor’s shoulder, wisps of hair tickling his nose.

“You should be more careful next time.”

“It’s this new layout; I’m not quite used to it yet. Don’t know where all the sharp edges are yet, though I can say with certainty that I now know where the Transdimensional Flux Relay Indicators are and that I won’t be leaning over them again.”

Rory taped the bandage in place and patted the Doctor’s stomach gently.

“Keep it dry and clean and you’ll be fine.”

The Doctor trailed his fingers over the ripped edges of his shirt, as he said, “Only just got this,” with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Rory regarded his expression and a pang of sympathy shot through him.

“I could, maybe, perhaps, sew it back together for you. It won’t be perfect, but it might work.”

“You could?” the Doctor asked eagerly.

“Well, I know how to stitch up wounds, so it can’t be that different can it?”

Before Rory could say anything else, the Doctor stood, shrugged out of his coat then pushed his braces down his shoulders. He removed his shirt and handed it to Rory seemingly without noticing, or caring about, his own state of undress.

“You’re going to give it to me now? Shouldn’t you, you know, put something else on first?” Rory laughed awkwardly, gripping the warm material in his hand, as the Doctor finally slipped his braces back into place then pulled his jacket back on.

Rory swallowed nervously at the sight before him. Pale skin against burgundy elastic and brown tweed sounded like something he’d see in a geriatric ward of Royal Leadworth Hospital, but in front of him, upon the Doctor’s form, it was unnervingly appealing. The Doctor buttoned his coat and Rory found himself shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“My bowtie,” the Doctor said with a gloomy glance towards the floor, where the red strip of material sat with a shoeprint across half of it.

Rory bent down to retrieve it, but it was at that same time that the Doctor did the same and they ended up banging their foreheads together. The Doctor stood back upright, rubbing his head, while Rory hissed in pain, but scooped the bowtie up anyway.

The Doctor regarded him carefully. “Why does this always happen to us?”

“What? Unfortunate circumstances?”

“Yes, but not just that; we’ve bumped heads more times than we’ve travelled. Why is the universe making this happen?”

“The universe? That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? Maybe they’re just terrible coincidences?”

“They’re certainly coincidences,” the Doctor said, “and we must pay full attention to them, but it’s more than just that.”

Rory dropped the bowtie into the Doctor’s open palm and took a step back. “Maybe it’s the universe’s idea of a joke, since we’ve been butting heads over Amy for so long?”

“Perhaps, but don’t you think it would stand to reason that if that were the case, Amy would be present to see how she’s affected us? No, this is definitely something just between us, as she’s never around when it occurs.”

Rory rubbed his throbbing head idly. “What else could it possibly be about, then?”

The Doctor watched him with a steady gaze, gently tapping an index finger against his lips in thought.

For the briefest moment, the Doctor’s brows dipped in thought – it happened so quickly Rory was almost sure he’d imagined it – but then the Doctor’s hand fell back to his side and his eyes lit up with what appeared to be understanding.

“What is it?” Rory asked, hoping that the Doctor had come up with less ridiculous conclusion from his own – which included the universe playing matchmaker.

“Nothing to worry about, Rory, but I just need to double check something.”

He turned away, placing a hand carefully over his abdomen, and started towards the stairs. After a few steps, however, he spun back around and shot Rory a friendly smile.

“Thanks, by the way, for all this,” he gestured towards his chest, “it’s lucky you were here to help.”

Rory nodded and offered him a small smile.

“It’s my job to take care of people,” he said.

The Doctor tipped his head to one side slightly and regarded him with softened features.

“I had hoped that you’d see me as more of a friend than a patient.”

“I do!” Rory said quickly, before he caught himself. “I do,” he repeated gentler. “Do you honestly think I’d offer to stitch up a patient’s shirt?”

“Rory,” replied the Doctor with a good-humoured grin, “of course I do, but that is because I know you’re a good man, a fine man, with even better intentions. Rory, you’d stitch up the crack in time and space for the universe if you could.”

Rory felt his face grow hot at the compliment and tried to take notice away from it by holding up the Doctor’s shirt and saying, “I’ll ,er, get started on this.”

The Doctor gave him a thumbs-up then quickly ascended the stairs.

“Everything will be clear soon enough,” he shouted back and Rory found himself wringing the shirt between his hands, wondering how on earth things were going to play out for them. He hoped the future involved less forehead banging because he couldn’t take any more headaches.

*

The Doctor had a terrible habit of not telling every detail, mainly the most important bits, which was how Rory ended up with a bruise just above his brow and the palms of his hands scraped red and raw.

This time, it started with Amy asking to visit another planet, which was not at all out of the ordinary; they took turns on deciding where to go and this day was Amy’s choice. The Doctor let the TARDIS choose where to land, which ended up being Cilliposium II, the Doctor explained, which was apparently famous for their tea. That was part of the problem, as he never explained exactly _why_ it was renowned. Rory found out the hard way.

Amy disappeared into a gift shop, dragging the Doctor behind her by the wrist, leaving Rory to entertain himself. He looked about, trying not to stare too much at the humanoids that passed by, who had three arms and twice as many fingers as normal, or that he was used to anyway. He took a seat outside a small neighbouring café and watched as a couple walked along the pavement, holding hands, carrying bags of shopping, and sipping at drinks, all at the same time. He briefly envied their ability to multitask, then focussed on the paper cups in their grasps. The Doctor _had_ said their tea was famous, so surely it wouldn’t hurt to buy one and try it.

After a fair bit of trouble trying to decide which kind to test first, he ended up back at his original table, slipping the lid off his cup and breathing in the vapours gently rising from the drink. It smelt nothing more than an ordinary Earl Grey, and for a moment he was faintly disappointed. Maybe he’d bought the wrong sort?

He blew across its surface then gingerly took a sip. He swallowed and smacked his lips gently. He waited for something spectacular, something that would really give him something to talk about, but, there was nothing. It certainly didn’t taste like anything special, more like the kind of tea you’d buy out the back of a van at a service station, just off the M4. Disappointed, he set the cup down and wondered why the Doctor would lie about something as trivial as tea.

As he waited for Amy and the Doctor to re-emerge from the shop, he slowly finished the tea, until all that was left was a faint grey residue on the bottom of the cup. Le t down or not, a drink is just what he needed. He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet upon the tabletop, ignoring the looks from other seated customers and feeling just the slightest bit funny, as though there was something niggling at the back of his mind.

He tipped his chair back onto two legs and folded his hands behind his head, taking up far more space than truly polite. He felt relaxed and happy, things he had not felt for a long while, what with travelling with the Doctor and getting into all kinds of trouble. Someone walked past, accidentally knocking into his elbow, jolting his head and causing his chair to rock forwards onto all four legs.

“Oi!” he called out, unable to stop his mouth from opening.

The person who’d bumped him turned around and Rory took in all muscled six foot something of them, wishing now that he’d held his tongue. Even then, it seemed as though his mouth had a mind of its own when it fell open again.

“Yeah, you,” he said, rising from his seat on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else. The other man stepped towards him looking more than a little angry. “Next time, watch where you’re walking and don’t be a – ”

At that moment, Rory was cut off by a hand upon his shoulder and the Doctor cheerfully saying, “Rory! Made a new friend?”

The Doctor pushed him back down into his chair and smiled at the enraged stranger. He picked up Rory’s used cup and sniffed it, shooting Rory a pointed look. “I’m sorry,” he said to the man, “my friend here has had a bit too much to drink; you know how it is when you’re on holiday, overindulgences galore.” He made a faint tutting sound, patted the man on the bicep, then smiled until the man turned and left with a grunt.

He spun on his heels and faced Rory. “Now,” he said, sitting across the table from him, “what _have_ you been up to while we were gone?”

Amy crossed her arms and looked at him with a raised brow. He darted his gaze from her to the Doctor then back, feeling very young and very in trouble.

“I – I didn’t do anything. I just bought a cup of tea!”

“Amy, can you get us each a Do-rally; I think we can all use a cool down.” He smiled at her and handed her his psychic paper. “I’m sure you can think up a likely story to get them for free.”

Rory was about to tell her that he had money, but before he could speak, she had quickly disappeared into the crowd, heading in the direction of the shop.

“Rory, can I speak with you?” the Doctor asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer before he tugged at Rory’s sleeve, pulling him out of his seat and leading him down the road a ways. Stepping into a side street that lead to an abandoned car park, the Doctor turned to him and pressed a palm against his forehead, as though to check his temperature. He slipped the sonic screwdriver out his pocket and flicked it on, carefully moving it down the length of Rory’s body.

Rory watched the Doctor’s hands, feeling uncomfortable, with an itch he just couldn’t scratch under his skin.

Briefly, he touched Rory’s brow again, but this time to brush back Rory’s hair.

“Rory,” he said in a voice that sounded as though he had meant for it to be a rebuke, but had given up halfway through. “Rory, I said the tea was famous, not that it was good and that you should try it. You just had to buy a cup didn’t you?” His eyes were soft and crinkling in the corners. “The English and their tea.”

Rory didn’t really know what the Doctor was talking about, mostly because he couldn’t concentrate, too fixated on the movements of the Doctor’s face, the way his lips curled up as he joked and the way his eyebrows said more than his actual words.

Without really meaning to, Rory reached out and stole the sonic screwdriver right out the Doctor’s hands, slipping it into his own back pocket, as though taking back a borrowed pen. The Doctor’s smile faltered for a moment.

“Oh,” he said and Rory thought, _well, that can’t be good_.

“Doctor?” Rory asked as his body moved forwards of its own accord, crowding the Doctor against a chain-link fence behind. The metal creaked under the weight and dipped around their bodies.

“The affects shouldn’t last long, don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry? I don’t know what I’m meant to be worry over!”

“Ah, right, yes. The infamous tea – not your usual herbal stuff, more of a powdered form of Haddenite.”

“Of course,” Rory said, hitting himself gently on the forehead with his palm, “how could I forget?”

Almost as soon as it was out of his mouth, he was apologising, feeling embarrassed by his uncontrollable audacity. The Doctor just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Haddenite, as you may have noticed by your strange behaviour, tends to takeover motor skills and removes a few of your inhibitions. Well, most, really, but that’s just a minor detail.”

Rory sighed loudly and looked skywards. The details were the most important part; everyone knew that. When he glanced back down, he found his hands drifting forwards towards the Doctor’s chest. The Doctor watched them getting closer, pushing further backwards into the fence, clearly attempting to escape. Rory reined them back in, feeling his face warm in embarrassment.

“I – I thought I saw a couple drinking that stuff earlier, but they looked fine, not as though their limbs had minds of their own.”

“Well, yes, it doesn’t affect their species; it would make no sense for it to.”

The Doctor helpfully batted away Rory’s wandering fingers as they moved towards his bowtie.

“Why didn’t you tell us this to begin with? Why do you have to keep secrets?” Rory complained as he grabbed onto the Doctor’s braces and slid his hands down, dragging his knuckles along the Doctor’s front.

“Not really secrets,” the Doctor replied, taking a hold of Rory’s wrists firmly and stopping his hands from moving more, however, Rory’s fingertips hooked behind the clasps of the braces, just below the waistband of the Doctor’s trousers. The Doctor wriggled, sliding his body down, away.

“Why do you withhold information, then? Don’t you think it would have helped if you’d taken the time to go ‘Oh, by the way, don’t drink the tea, it’ll drive you a bit mad’?” He huffed loudly as his fingers worked their way under the edge of the Doctor’s shirt, gently brushing against the soft skin of his stomach.

The Doctor paused, appearing not even to breathe as he caught Rory’s eye and swallowed.

“That’s terribly distracting,” he said, glancing down at Rory’s hands.

“I’m sorry, I’d stop if I could,” Rory apologised, even as one of his thumbs brushed over the Doctor’s navel and temporarily satisfied the prickling under his skin. “How much longer do we have to wait until this wears off?”

“Depends.”

“On what?” Rory asked, exasperated as his legs took him a step forwards, knocking their knees together. Things were far too close for comfort; it was making the back of his neck heat up uncomfortably.

“Many factors: the amount of powder ingested, the amount of time passed since first taken, the mental strength of the user. For you, I’d say, maybe five minutes left.”

Rory sighed in relief, but regretted it almost immediately as the air ruffled the Doctor’s hair and brought his attention to the pale skin of the Doctor’s throat. His eyes latched onto a patch just under the curve of the Doctor’s jaw and he knew his mouth would do as much if he wasn’t careful. With every ounce of his strength, he dragged one of the Doctor’s hands up until it rested on his shoulder and successfully held him back for the moment.

“You chose this planet, so this is your fault,” Rory complained, his face trying to dip forwards towards warm flesh.

“No I didn’t,” he said, readjusting his lowered hand to capture both of Rory’s wrists in it as Rory’s fingers wriggled. “The TARDIS chose. I put her on random and she brought us here. That makes this something different altogether.”

“You’re blaming this on your time machine?”

“This wouldn’t be the first time she’s done something like this. I think the universe tells her where to go sometimes, too.”

“They conspire? Whisper stories to each other at night? Gossip about what the Milky Way has done with her hair?”

Rory hated himself even more as his body pushed forwards until their thighs and hips met and the Doctor let out a strangled noise.

“That’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. The other week when I told you I’d figure out what was going on between us? Well, I’ve almost got it.”

“And?”

“It’s nothing bad, not that I can tell so far, at least. I’m starting to suspect that it’s just a course of time trying to correct itself.”

The Doctor smiled and Rory couldn’t take his eyes off his lips; he could almost taste them as he struggled against the Doctor’s hand and tried to get closer. It was horribly disconcerting, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel as though things would be fine if he could just move forwards that last half a foot and close the space between them. He blamed that part of him on the drug.

“How do you know time won’t just get rid of us then? What if that’s the kind of correcting it’s trying to achieve?”

“It could easily do that, Rory. Pressing the delete button is far too simple for something like the universe. No, this is something more complex, something that takes time and care.” The Doctor smiled gently in thought. “This is something it really believes in and wants to work.”

The fence at the Doctor’s back creaked loudly as Rory shifted forwards, forcing the Doctor’s elbow to bend slightly, allowing him closer. He was barely a breath’s width away from the Doctor’s face now; he could see every tiny freckle across the Doctor’s cheekbones and every ring of blue in the Doctor’s eye.

“Doctor?”

“Rory?”

“What if this is part of the plan; what if it wants this to happen? You should let it happen.”

Rory couldn’t hold his tongue as he met the Doctor’s eyes. There was something about him that completely destroyed his resolution, that broke down every inch of the morality that was exposed because of the tea. The drug found his weakness and exploited it beyond measure. He felt open and vulnerable and so very not in control, but it was the Doctor’s move.

The Doctor’s lips parted and he stared at Rory for a moment.

This wasn’t what the Doctor did, though, Rory knew. The Doctor ran about and saved lives, rescued planets from impending disasters, and lived on pure adrenaline. He said stupid things for a laugh and stole people away so they could keep him company on his travels through the universe. He was beyond everything human that Rory knew and understood. The Doctor would not do anything he was not completely sure about, things he’d checked and double checked, and solved and added a QED to the end of.

For the briefest of seconds, Rory felt the arm holding him back give way, but just as quickly it was back, as strong as ever.

“We should talk about this when you’re sober.”

It made sense to Rory, it was completely rational and well thought out. However, the Haddenite obviously had other ideas, as a strange sensation rippled up Rory’s spine and a strength washed over him like nothing else.

Rory’s body pushed forwards harder and the Doctor’s elbows finally bent completely, sending their bodies crashing together. The Doctor’s lips were so close, ever so near, but then Rory’s forehead collided with the Doctor’s own, instead. He felt himself falling backwards in pain, palms scraping against the rough concrete ground before the back of his head knocked against the floor with a loud crack, and then found himself surrounded by nothing but darkness.

*

When he’d later woken up inside the TARDIS with the bruise on his face and bloodied palms, he’d come to the conclusion that the details were indeed what made vital information so useful.

*

“We should discuss what this all means,” Rory said, two weeks later, while sitting at the kitchen table, watching the Doctor flit about, grabbing plates and riffling through the fridge.

“Means?”

“Yeah, you said you’d almost figured out why we keep bumping into each other.”

The Doctor stopped then and looked over his shoulder, a carton of eggs in one hand and a cucumber in the other.

“Oh, _that_.”

He put the items back, carefully shutting the door after, then turned around, cocking his hip and leaning against the sideboard.

“I understand it now.”

“Great! Excellent! Let’s hear it and get it over with. First of all, can we fix it?”

The Doctor pulled a comical face and Rory didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign.

“Yes,” he finally said, sounding faintly unsure.

“And?”

“Well, it’s up to you, and me, I suppose, but mainly you.”

“Why me?”

“Because it very much matters how you feel and how happy things make you.”

Rory had no response for that, but his chest tightened and he couldn’t quite keep the small grin off his face. The Doctor smiled back and walked to take the seat opposite. He rested his elbows on the edge of the table and folded his hands a few inches below his chin.

“It started after we went underground,” he began, his eyes trained on Rory’s. “You weren’t meant to make it back to the surface. I did something awfully stupid, Rory, and I didn’t truly know why at the time, but it makes sense now. In the future, I’ll go back in time to the moment just before Restac cornered us, and I’ll tamper with her weapon to stop it from killing you. It took a while for me to figure out, but I understand it all now.”

Rory was stunned into silence. The Doctor stood and began to pace the small room.

“But that’s the thing about time, because it loops and it needs to fit together, but my going back and saving you distorted it – think of it like a hose, where a bend in the pipe stops water from flowing through, until it’s straightened out and then everything resumes as normal. Well, the change created a kink in time and now it’s trying to get rid of it. Time needs for me to have a reason to go back and save you, else it can’t correct itself, and, in the end, it’ll probably just erase us.”

“So,” Rory said after a pause, gathering his thoughts. “You’ve already saved me, but now time is knocking our heads together to get us closer, so the future you will _want_ to save the past me, and stop the universe from destroying us in the present?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Talk about complicated.”

Rory rubbed at his eyes, willing away the headache – they hadn’t even knocked into each other this time, as he still ended up in pain – and the Doctor laughed.

“Time is never simple.”

“I could use a tea; what about you, Doctor?”

He couldn’t help it, it was a nervous habit.

Before the Doctor could answer, he stood and made his way to the kettle, flicking it on and sliding two mugs off the cup rack. He put a teabag in each, then turned, pressing backwards into the countertop, facing the Doctor.

“So why bash our heads together? Why not let us bond over something less painful, like a holiday in the Bahamas?”

“Would that really be less painful?” the Doctor reasoned. “We’d probably both end up sunburnt and complaining and wishing to be elsewhere.”

Rory can’t help but laugh, mainly because it’s true.

“I can honestly say that if we bash heads again, it’ll only be too soon.”

Right as he said it, before the last syllable could die away, the TARDIS – which wasn’t even in flight, couldn’t be because the Doctor was _here_ with _him_ – lurched. Rory clung onto the cupboards behind with his fingertips, while the Doctor darted forwards, catching a cup in each hand as they slid off the counter, one to Rory’s left, the other to his right. The Doctor ended up pressed against him, his arm stretch forwards either side of Rory’s body, effectively trapping him, their legs tangled together and their faces mere inches away.

Rory didn’t dare breathe or move or speak, just kept his wide eyes locked on the Doctor’s, wondering what on earth was going to happen.

There were two gentle taps as the Doctor obviously set the mugs down, then two hands slid to rest alongside his own. A thumb brushed over his knuckle and Rory started to question what sort of closeness the universe was trying to cause.

Carefully, the Doctor tapped their foreheads together and for a moment Rory thought it was some kind of joke, but then flashes of time began to fill his mind. He saw the Doctor pacing and tugging at his own hair, arguing with himself about something Rory couldn’t quite understand. He saw the Doctor and Amy talking about him; watched Amy touch the Doctor’s shoulder in understanding and saw the Doctor place his face in his hands and sigh. He saw himself acting a fool because of the drug-like tea on Cilliposium II, but felt something completely different. He heard the Doctor’s two hearts as they sped up as he neared and crowded the Doctor against the fence; felt them fluttering so quickly, they almost felt like nothing at all, when he finally touched him as his knuckles brushed down his chest. He saw and felt and heard everything from the Doctor’s point of view and he understood.

Rory wanted to live. He wanted to wake up the next day, and the day after, and hopefully even the day after that. He wanted the Doctor to save him, to risk everything, to break time, to dare to disturb the universe. He wanted to make sure the Doctor would travel back to him.

The Doctor pulled his forehead away, but Rory slipped a hand behind his neck and paused him. The TARDIS was motionless and the whole of space said nothing. Even the kettle switched itself off with a gentle _click_.

The Doctor was so close, just millimetres away, then before he could change his mind, Rory tilted the Doctor’s face up gently and brushed their lips together.

The Doctor didn’t respond, held perfectly still under Rory’s hands, and for a moment Rory almost believed he’d just imagined the whole thing, but then the Doctor made a small noise as though he opposed, even as he pushed his mouth forwards into Rory’s own.

He broke away, leaving Rory his with heart hammering in his chest and his knees not the least bit supportive.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his eyes closed and face relaxed, expression softened around the edges, where frown lines usually sat.

“Feel what?”

The Doctor didn’t answer right away, just leaned upwards and pushed their mouths together once more, bringing a hand up to cup the back of Rory’s head. Their noses bumped briefly, but the Doctor just moved them closer, drawing Rory in with the heat of his lips and the curl of his fingers in Rory’s hair.

As suddenly as it had all begun, the Doctor pulled away, his lips softly parted.

“Everything feels all right,” he said, sliding their faces together and pushing his nose alongside Rory’s own. “Time’s beginning to sort itself out. It’s like when you finally remember someone’s name after trying to figure out what it is for three days. I wish you could feel this.”

Rory knocked their foreheads together softly and in a rush of shared thoughts, he knew, he felt. It was like the edge of a storm, where the atmosphere built and rolled, but was nothing compared to the eye. He only experienced the briefest of sensations, but even that was enough; he couldn’t imagine how the Doctor felt just then.

He let out a gentle noise of understanding and kissed the Doctor again, gripping the front of the Doctor’s shirt in a clenched fist.

The Doctor’s hands moved to his hips and brought them closer together. Rory could smell hints of TARDIS grease and fruity shampoo – that might even have been the one Amy kept on the third shelf in the shower – and could feel the buttons of the Doctor’s jacket pressing down his front.

Breaking the kiss, the Doctor pushed his face into Rory’s neck, his lips brushing against the skin when he spoke.

“I’m too old for this,” he said, but still clung tightly to Rory’s body.

Rory laughed quietly.

“Yeah, well, you started it.”

The Doctor pushed his brow up against the side of Rory’s head and Rory could feel the smile against his jaw.

“You can hardly blame me, it’s in my future, it hasn’t happened yet, but now technically I can blame you, as _you_ were the one who kissed _me_. That makes _you_ the first falling domino. What happens from here on out now is completely and utterly, one-hundred percent _your_ fault.”

For a second Rory didn’t move, but then he drew back and glanced down at the Doctor’s face and saw anticipation, like he wanted Rory to react, and he couldn’t help but slip his hands behind the Doctor’s braces and drag him forwards and up. With lips so close they almost touched, Rory breathed out a sigh.

“I can probably live with that,” he said quietly, before tugging the Doctor into another kiss. The Doctor leant against him, letting him feel the whole of his weight along his body.

Rory’s hands shook as he placed his hands on the Doctor’s hips; he couldn’t stop them with everything thrumming through his veins. With nothing separating them but clothes, Rory found his heart racing a little faster and his breath quickening. The Doctor wasn’t stopping, didn’t even falter when Rory let his hands slip round and down to clutch at the backs of the Doctor’s thighs, pulling him closer as his body responded to the Doctor’s warm mouth. The Doctor was going to let this happen and Rory knew he’d been given full control. He was not going to throw this moment away.

The Doctor slid his arms up Rory’s back, placing his warm palms against his shoulder blades and holding them tightly together. He ground forwards into Rory’s body, sliding one lean thigh between his legs and Rory let out a groan that was all wet breath and aching need.

Maybe he wasn’t quite so in control as he’d thought.

He arched forward, edging himself further along the Doctor’s leg until there was nowhere else for him to go, nothing else for him to do except rut against the soft body in front of him. The Doctor let out a small noise, one Rory only just caught. He moved one hand to the back of the Doctor’s head, tangling his fingers into unruly hair and pulling the Doctor impossibly closer.

The Doctor opened his mouth a little wider and Rory found himself a little bit more without breath. It was then that the Doctor pulled away, slipping out of his grasp, taking a step back, and running his hands, not as he should – down Rory’s sides to his hips so he could pull them together again – but down the front of his own shirt, in an obvious attempt to smooth out the wrinkles.

“We should – we should take it slow,” The Doctor said his breathing only slightly uneven, which maddened Rory; he wanted the Doctor as breathless and panting as he was himself. However, the Doctor was correct, there was no point rushing things.

“Right. Slow. Yes, good idea,” Rory responded, nodding in agreement. “It’s not as though this won’t already change the future, I mean, you’re pretty much well and truly stuck with me now.”

The Doctor pulled a face and Rory let out an indignant “Hey!” followed by huffed laughter. The Doctor smiled easily and gently touched Rory’s side.

“No, you’re right,” he said quietly, “You’ve got me now, though I think you had me long before you even knew you did.”

At that, Rory couldn’t help but reach forward for him, pulling him back towards him, until their shoes bumped together and the Doctor once again rested against him.

He could feel the Doctor’s body thrumming against his own, could feel mirrored arousal pressing into his thigh, and as the Doctor’s gaze darted to his mouth in a way that said he didn’t really mean it to, that he couldn’t quite help himself, Rory found his hands pushing aside the Doctor’s jacket and sliding over jutting hipbones. The Doctor didn’t even fight against him as Rory pressed forwards, walking him backwards until he knocked against the edge of the kitchen table, toppling the salt and pepper pots with his weight.

“I don’t know if that’s going to work for me, Doctor,” he whispered, their faces close, breaths mingling in the small space between.

The Doctor didn’t say anything, just hoisted himself onto the table, looked at him with his eyes that were far too expressive for their own good, and dragged him back to his mouth, telling Rory everything he wanted to hear, without uttering a word.

Without stopping, Rory pushed at the Doctor’s jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and letting him tug his arms out the sleeves before he tossed it towards the other end of the table.

As though held by Rory’s gaze as he took in his form, the Doctor stayed in place, even as Rory’s fingers drifted towards the clips of his braces. The Doctor stared down at Rory’s hands as Rory traced the metal with one fingernail, before he flicked the edges up, unclasping the burgundy braces from the Doctor’s trousers, and letting them trail back up and over the Doctor’s shoulders.

The front of the Doctor’s trousers strained enticingly against his obvious erection, but Rory paid no attention as he moved instead towards the Doctor’s bow tie. He easily unknotted it and left it hanging loosely around the Doctor’s neck while he began working on the buttons of the Doctor’s shirt. The Doctor watched him, his cool blue eyes half-hidden by his heavy-lidded gaze, but didn’t move to help, or stop him. When he reached the last fastening, Rory tugged on the Doctor’s shirttails, pulling them from his trousers and letting his fingertips slip under the material to brush against the soft, warm skin of the Doctor’s stomach. He could feel muscles moving under the skin, responded to the light touches of Rory’s hands. Slowly, Rory slid his palms up over the curve of his ribs, along his sternum, and across his shoulders, where he pushed and peeled the Doctor’s shirt off.

He dropped it on the floor and easily knocked the Doctor’s knees apart as he moved to stand between his open legs.

With the Doctor’s eyes upon him, he curled his fingers under the edges of his own shirt and tugged it over his head, ruffling his hair, sending it askew with static.

The Doctor leant back on his palms, gently blowing the fringe out of his eyes and looking up at Rory with flushed cheeks.

“Oh, Rory,” he said softly, “look at you.” He lifted one hand and gently touched Rory’s collarbone, trailing his fingers lazily over the skin as Rory watched with rapt attention. After a moment, the Doctor’s hands fell to Rory’s belt and began to unbuckle it; Rory didn’t dare breathe in case he distracted him and caused him to stop. Deft fingers unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers and they slid down his legs without needing to be pushed. Rory toed his trainers off and easily stepped out of his jeans, while the Doctor slipped a hand behind his shoulders and pulled him down.

As Rory kissed along his neck, the Doctor raised his right leg, running his boot along the outside of Rory’s leg until he curled it around the backs of Rory’s thighs and shifted the angle of their bodies. Rory’s groin pushed into the Doctor’s own and Rory felt the groan vibrate through the throat under his mouth.

He moved his hands down and finally unfastened the Doctor’s trousers, pushing at them unsuccessfully before realising that the table was in the way. With a gentle noise of protest from the Doctor, Rory drew away, stepping backwards and running his hand along the length of the Doctor’s legs. Holding them up waist-high by the ends of his trousers, Rory carefully untied the Doctor’s boots and pulled them off, along with his socks. He shot a glance towards the Doctor, who finally seemed to understand, as he moved onto his elbows and lifted himself enough that Rory was able to tug the trousers down and off in one smooth movement. Unsupported, the Doctor’s feet swung back down to the ground with two gentle slaps against the linoleum.

The Doctor sat up and reached out for Rory, who couldn’t help but step into the contact, his palms falling and rubbing along the tops of the Doctor’s thighs. Feeling more unsure of himself than ever before, Rory let his fingertips trail upwards to brush against the front of the Doctor’s underwear.

The Doctor jolted against him, letting out a high-pitched sound, before he latched his mouth onto Rory’s shoulder and bit marks into his skin.  
Rory hissed and cupped him fully through the thin material, imagining how it would feel with skin upon skin. As though reading his mind – which could have been possible, as Rory unintentionally let his head fall sideways to bump gently against the Doctor’s – the Doctor reached down, grabbed him by the wrist, and held on tightly, even as Rory slipped both of their hands inside the last of the Doctor’s clothing.

The Doctor bucked upwards as their fingers slid along the underside of his cock and Rory wrapped his other hand around the back of the Doctor’s head as the Doctor muffled his groan against Rory’s skin. It was all too easy as he encircled the Doctor’s cock with his warm palm and began to slowly stroke, drawing noises that sounded like mixes of pain and pleasure.

“Definitely changed the future,” the Doctor stated, voice raw, as he rocked up into Rory’s hand, but Rory silenced him, dipping down and pressing their mouths tightly together.

The Doctor was heavy and hot in his palm and the skin was soft and smooth as his hand gently slid against it. The Doctor let go, slipping his hand away from his own cock and moving it to tug at Rory’s underwear, pulling the clothing halfway down Rory’s thighs.

This was new. This was the Doctor taking what he wanted, and Rory found himself surprised that he could be turned on more than he already was.

Rory groaned against the Doctor’s lips and broke away to stare down between their bodies, watching as the Doctor slowly took him in hand, his movements clearly hesitant, but still firm. His own rhythm faltered as his mind went momentarily blank at the pleasure that shot through him, but the Doctor said nothing, just curled his foot behind Rory’s knee and nudged him closer.

The head of Rory’s cock rubbed against the inside of the Doctor’s leg and Rory couldn’t help but thrust his hips forwards for more. He quickly batted the Doctor’s hand away, pushed the Doctor flat upon the table, sliding their bodies together and gently spreading the Doctor’s legs further apart. He rolled his body down, nudging his cock into the curve of the Doctor’s thigh in time to the strokes of his hand, and watched as the Doctor slowly fell apart underneath him.

The Doctor’s fingers danced across his own stomach, tracing over his hips before falling to the tabletop, where they clawed and squeaked and scraped against the polished wood. His head rolled back, baring his throat to Rory, while his chest heaved, his ribs showing though almost translucently pale skin with every inhale.

The Doctor shut his eyes briefly and bucked upwards.

Before Rory could stop him, the Doctor gripped Rory’s elbow and used it to pull himself up until he could once again reach Rory’s mouth. Their lips slid together and the Doctor began to shudder against him; Rory knew he wouldn’t last much longer, that he just needed the slightest amount of encouragement.

He continued to stroke the Doctor, thumbing the head of his cock and squeezing gently, while with his other hand, he brushed the Doctor’s fringe out of his eyes, feeling the sweat building up on his brow.

“Come on, Doctor,” Rory breathed quietly and the Doctor moved to clutch at the edge of the table, his fingers turning white with the strength of his grip.

Rory ground into the softness of the Doctor’s inner thigh and pushed the tip of his cock into the warmth, leaving sticky trails of precome over the smooth skin.

“Rory, I think I – I think I – ” the Doctor started, but before he could finish his sentence, he came messily over Rory’s hand with a hitched breath and a choked noise in the back of his throat. His hands moved to grasp Rory’s hips, fingers digging in with bruising force, pinching and biting at his skin, until he suddenly let go and collapsed backwards onto the table.

Rory rolled his body forward, hooking his messy, wet fingers into the space behind the Doctor’s knee and hitching it up higher, baring endless skin for him to rut against. He could feel the end approaching like a tidal wave of sensations and with the Doctor looking up at him with his face slackened from exhaustion, mouth open as he drew in long, shuddering breaths. He found himself closer with every second, until the moment when everything shattered, blew apart like a supernova, and left him clinging to the Doctor as he came, biting his tongue to keep from moaning things he didn’t quite want the Doctor to know yet.

Rory rested his forehead against the Doctor’s shoulder and tried his best to even his breathing. All he could smell was the heady scent of their completion and the Doctor’s skin; it made his body twitch, despite its exhausted state. He brushed his mouth against the Doctor’s neck and released a muffled noise as he felt fingers run up the back of his neck and into his hair.

They stayed that way for some time, as the euphoria of orgasm slowly faded and left Rory with aching knees and heavy limbs. He blinked against the tiredness that slowly wrapped around him, and carefully tried to untangle himself from the Doctor’s body. The Doctor grunted and held tight.

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but whatever it was, he never uttered it, just pulled Rory back down to his mouth and destroyed every ounce of Rory’s will to move.

*

Rory expected it to be awkward, if only a little, but that was the Doctor for him, always full of surprises.

The worst bit was when Amy asked the Doctor if he’d done it yet. Rory didn’t know what she was talking about, but the Doctor flushed, and Amy tossed her head back and laughed.

“I knew it,” she said, as Rory finally cottoned on and hid his face in his hands.

Apparently, she’d been in on it from the start.

*

One day, the Doctor set the coordinates and refused to tell them where he was taking them, saying he just had to stop off somewhere for a bit of unfinished business.

Amy and Rory waited, sitting side-by-side upon the stairs, while the Doctor made his way to the doors, humming a familiar tune and twirling his sonic screwdriver in his fingers. He looked back over his shoulder just once before he left and Rory only just caught the glance.

It was a few minutes before the Doctor re-emerged, brushing dirt off his knees and looking for all the world as though he’d just single-handedly stopped an universal war from breaking out.

Rory swore he saw a glimpse of dirt walls and underground tunnels, just before the TARDIS doors slammed shut behind the Doctor, who announced that they certainly, most definitely needed a bigger and better holiday.

At the console, he set new coordinates, muttering about the lost city of Gruin, and it finally dawned on Rory.

Outside those blue wooden doors, twenty-one kilometres under the earth, with nothing more than a sonic screwdriver, the Doctor had just saved his life.

**FIN**   



End file.
